Within My Heart (42 page)

Moments passed.

Rachel didn’t look at him, and he sensed the distance between them increasing. He bowed his head, counting the cost of having been so transparent, while trying not to imagine how he must look in her eyes.

Finally, he stood. It was late. He’d promised James he’d see her safely home, and James was probably wondering where his little sister was about now. “The livery was closed, so I left my horse at James and Molly’s,” he said quietly, helping her slip her coat on. Then she turned to him.

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it, much as he’d done to her that night at the resort. The warmth of her breath and the gentleness of her touch moved him. More than she likely realized.

“We’re all afraid of something, Rand,” she whispered, laying her hand on his chest. “And you have reason beyond anyone I’ve ever known.”

He traced the curve of her lower lip with his thumb, her words— her acceptance—touching a place deep inside him. But they also stirred a question. One that he thought he already knew the answer to. But, he wondered . . . did she?

He framed her face with his hands, seeing the affection in her eyes while also feeling her tense the slightest bit. “Now you know my deepest fear . . . but what is yours?” He moved closer. “What are you most afraid of, Rachel?”

She tried to look away, but he gently coerced her focus back.

She covered his hands on her face. “I think you know what I’m afraid of,” she whispered.

He drew closer, loving this woman with everything in him. “Tell me.”

Tears rose in her eyes. “I’m afraid of . . .” A frown pinched her brow. “Of going through what Lyda’s going through right now, all over again. I’ve lived that before, Rand.” She took a breath. “I don’t ever want to hurt like that again.”

“Who’s to say that you will?”

She stepped back, and he let her go.

She pulled her coat closer about her. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve never been in that place before.”

He couldn’t argue that point. “You’re right, I haven’t. But I do know what it’s like to sit by a couple’s bed in their final moments together and to see them, to
hear
them . . . declaring their love for each other.” His throat tightened. “If you were to ask them, in that moment, if they would undo all the years of being together, all the joy they’ve shared, in order to avoid the coming pain”—he leveled his gaze—“neither of them would say yes, Rachel. Neither of them,” he whispered. “Including Lyda.”

Her gaze lowered, and he could feel her thinking, turning things over in her mind. He also saw her hands, balled into tight fists, and that gave insight into her as well. He’d told her before that he was a patient man, and he was. But he had a feeling she might just put his patience to the test. Still, whatever it took to win this woman’s heart, he was willing to do it.

He banked the fire and grabbed his duster from the coat hook, the lack of sleep catching up with him. “It’s time I got you home.”

She joined him by the door, then paused and looked up at him. Then, wordless, she retrieved an oil lamp from the table and disappeared with it down the hall, in the direction of the storeroom. She returned a moment later without the lamp, but with a smile lighting her eyes.

Realizing what she’d done, Rand leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. He opened the door and offered his arm. She tucked her hand through.

More than eight inches of snow had fallen the previous night, and if the current rate of snow kept up, that much would likely fall again. A subtle wind blew down from the north, sending powdery white flakes wafting downward, shrouding the town and lending the night an uncanny resemblance to day. The streets were deserted and the jagged snow-dusted knife blades of the Rockies stood sentinel above the town like sleeping giants. Rand thanked God again for bringing him to this breathtaking country, and into the life of the woman walking beside him.

He slipped an arm about her waist as they climbed the icy stairs to James and Molly’s home. He waited for her to produce the key, then slid it into the lock. “You stay inside. I’ll get my horse and meet you back here.”

Rachel stepped inside and paused, briefly bowing her head. “I want you to know that it’s not because I don’t care about you. I do.” She smoothed a hand over his lapel. “Very much. There’s a part of me that knows what you’re saying is right, and I want to follow that voice. But there’s another voice”—she shook her head, her face pale in the moonlight—“that’s screaming inside . . . telling me to run. To hide.”

“I have a solution,” he said quietly, caressing her cheek. “Either go with the first option, or go with the second and run to me. I’ll hide you and keep you safe.”

She sighed, a tiny smile peeking through. “I wish I could make you understand what I’m feeling.”

“I think I do understand, Rachel.” He fingered a dark curl at her neckline, struggling with how to phrase his thoughts in a way that wouldn’t leave them on the wrong footing. “I know you’re afraid of opening your heart again, of losing someone . . . like you lost Thomas. And while I know life doesn’t hold any guarantees, I’ve also learned that there’s no joy in this life without pain. I’m willing to take some risks in order to have that kind of happiness. And, if you’re willing”—he hoped he wasn’t overstepping his bounds, pushing too hard, assuming too much—“I’d like to share that kind of happiness with you.” The tender look in her eyes encouraged him. “Maybe together,” he said, “we could help each other face our fears.”

“Help each other face our fears,” she repeated, her voice soft and her smile tentative, revealing both the hope she had, as well as the slenderest thread of lingering doubt. “That sounds so beautiful. . . . And so easy, the way you say it.”

He brushed the hair back from her forehead and kissed her— once, twice . . . and a third time—hearing her quickening breaths, which only made him want to kiss her again. “I doubt it’ll be easy, Rachel. But I promise you, it’ll be worth it. Now”—not wanting to, he gave her a gentle nudge farther inside—“I’ll be right back.”

Half an hour later, he guided the mare up the mountain toward the Boyd ranch, the snow coming down heavy. Rachel sat sidesaddle in front of him, tucked warmly against his body, and he had a peace he hadn’t felt in . . . well, that he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. He glanced up at the stars, thinking of Ben, and wondering what heaven was like. He recalled something Ben had said to him once, some time back.
“If this side of heaven’s this pretty, Doc . . . just
imagine what the other side must be like.”

Rand looked heavenward, thankful his eternity with Ben Mullins had started in Timber Ridge, and envying the fact that Ben didn’t have to use his imagination anymore.

He guided the horse along the final curve to Rachel’s cabin and pulled back on the reins, seeing someone riding straight for them.

Rachel straightened. “It’s James,” she whispered, concern in her voice.

James reined in sharp, his face half hidden beneath his hat. “I was just on my way to town to find you.” His horse whinnied, struggling at the bit, and James pulled the reins taut. “I’m sorry, Rachel . . . it’s the boys. Molly and I have looked everywhere for them. But they’re gone.”

35

A
n endless hour later, Rachel stood by the front window, her breath fogging the pane. Her throat ached with tears, both those shed and those she fought to hold back. The scene outside was disturbingly familiar. Torches dotted the perimeter of the yard, flaming bright despite the snowfall, and she counted at least thirty men grouped together, James and Rand at the center.

“I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

Hearing Molly’s fragile voice beside her, Rachel pulled her sister-in- law close. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered, knowing it wasn’t. Molly had sent the boys down to the springhouse to get some meat for dinner, something she let them do all the time. Except this evening, the boys hadn’t come back. When Mitch and Kurt hadn’t returned after ten minutes, Molly had searched the barn and the surrounding woods while James scoured the hills above.

Nothing.

Rachel hugged herself, the ache inside nearly causing her knees to buckle.
Please, Lord . . . not my sons.

Any tracks Mitch and Kurt might have left had been lost to the wind and snow. She looked beyond the search parties forming in front of the barn and could hardly fathom that her boys were out there in the bitter cold and pressing darkness. Somewhere. Alone. Without her.

The crowd of men outside continued to grow. But one man was noticeably absent. The man who knew these mountains better than anyone. Who could track anything, over rock and creek, through rain or snow. She kept praying she would see him ride up. But he hadn’t. And she couldn’t blame him, after how she’d treated him. She took a breath and wiped her tears. She’d asked James to send for him. And when he came,
if
he came, she would ask his forgiveness, as she should have a few hours ago—as she wanted to . . . yet somehow couldn’t. And she would beg him to find her sons.

Arms came around her from behind, and she wrapped her hands over Rand’s.

He leaned close. “We’re about to set out. Is there any other place you’ve thought of where they might have gone? James wanted me to ask.”

She shook her head. “No . . . but I’m coming with you.”

“I expected you to say that,” he said softly. He turned her in his arms until she faced him. “And none of us will try to stop you if you honestly feel that’s best. But . . .” He cradled her face in his hands, silencing the argument she was about to make. “We feel it would be best if you’d stay here. That way”—he spoke with gentle persuasion—“if the boys return to the house, you’ll be here. And”— earnestness filled his eyes—“if somehow they’ve gotten separated and only one of them finds their way back here, it’ll be good for you to be with him until we bring the other safely home.”

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. She saw the wisdom in what he said, but it didn’t feel right. Just sitting here. Waiting. Not doing anything to help. “Do you know if James has heard anything back yet from—”

“Rachel?”

At the sound of the voice, she turned and breathed the name already poised on her lips, “Daniel?”

Her fragile composure gave way, and on legs that hardly held her, she crossed the room and reached to take hold of Daniel’s hands. But he drew her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Daniel,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for how I treated—”

“Shhh . . .” He spoke softly, holding her closer. His nearness brought a comfort she wanted to trust in so badly. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. He stroked her hair, much like James might have, and a strangled sound rose in his throat.

After a moment, he drew back, eyes misty. “The doc and I are riding together. We’ll find them, Rachel. Your boys are smart. They’ve been raised in these mountains. They know to stay together. They know what to do.”

She sniffed. “Because you taught them.”

He shook his head. “Because their father and I taught them.”

She hugged him again, wanting to say more to him, but knowing those things could wait. Once Daniel found Mitch and Kurt, and he would, she told herself, she knew her sons could be in no better hands than Rand’s.

She spotted Lyda standing between Elizabeth and Molly, and felt their gentle yet strong-as-steel resolve and love.

“I already checked the area around the springhouse,” Daniel continued. “I found some broken branches.” He briefly looked away, and Rachel felt more than glimpsed something incongruent in his manner. “I can’t be sure. . . . It could be from the storm or from an animal, maybe a moose or an elk. But my gut tells me the boys headed downslope a ways, so that’s the direction four of the groups will be riding. Doc and I among them.”

If she were going by his tone alone, she never would have questioned him. But whatever it was she’d sensed . . . “Daniel, if you know something,
please
, just say it. Don’t keep it from me.”

He leveled his gaze. “All right,” he said quietly, and Rachel felt a shiver up her spine. He reached into his coat and pulled out something she didn’t recognize—at first.

Oh, dear God . . .
Her breath left her in a rush, and Rand’s arms came around her, holding her up. In Daniel’s hand was the shredded remains of what appeared to be brown wrapping paper. The paper used to wrap meat.

Lyda came along beside her. “They’re going to find your sweet boys,” she whispered, hugging Rachel tight. “And I’m going to be with you when they do. We all are.” She indicated Molly and Elizabeth with a nod. “The same as you were there for me.”

Mounted up, the search parties began heading out into the night. Their torches bobbed like writhing stars as the men fanned out in all directions from the house, calling the boys’ names, until finally the flickering points of light disappeared beneath the canopy of snow-ladened evergreens.

Seeing Ranslett saddled up, Rand turned to do the same.

“Rand?”

He turned back to see Rachel standing on the edge of the porch, flanked by Lyda, Elizabeth, and Molly.

“Please . . . signal as soon as you can.” A sob broke through her resolve. “Either way,” she whispered.